Everlasting Bonds: Wings of Despair REMASTERED
by XanedisAlternate
Summary: The war with Plegia still haunts the political landscape of the continent, even two years after. However, an aggression from a new rising power forces the Ylisseans to strike a deal with their hated enemy, all for the sake of putting down the new threat. In the midst of the political turmoil, future and past unravel once more as a mysterious girl appears...
1. Encounters: Part 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Greetings, readers and writers. I'm XanedisAlternate, previously known as "Xanedis" here on fanfiction dot net(although that was MANY years ago). Recently, I've found a re-established desire to write some fanfiction, even if my primary focus still lies in writing my original works. More information on those can be found on my profile page.**

**Anyhow, those of you who used to read "Everlasting Bonds: Wings of Despair"(an old fanfic of mine) did lament that I had to stop writing it. Having to stop writing it really hurt me as well, as it was (at the time) my greatest passion project. However, I seriously needed to focus on my original works, and I still do. However, I have happened upon a great amount of free time, and with so much free time comes a great responsibility...**

**...and t****hus, I've decided to release a remastered version of EB. I'll polish each chapter to meet my current quality standards and I'll address some plot holes that I've found in the fanfic. I've also got plans to continue writing EB until the end, having it as sort of a side project alongside my big original work(s). Of course, I'd love to hear you folks' thoughts on this. Also, since I'm undertaking this big task of resuming a project as time-consuming as EB, I would love it if you would check out my original stuff - especially if you like my writing!**

**Alright, now that I've gotten all the necessary self-plugging out of the way, how about we get this show underway?  
**

**Ladies and gentlemen... here's "Everlasting Bonds, Wings of Despair REMASTERED". Enjoy!**

**...Erm, yeah, I forgot to state that some chapters will receive less polish than others. I only want to fix the stupid parts, but if something works, it works. I don't want to try and fix what already works, so please keep that in mind as you embark on the journey of rediscovering EB. Also, when I start writing the new chapters(we'll get there eventually), they'll be written in my new writing style(which is better portrayed in the other Fire Emblem: Awakening fanfic that I have uploaded on the site - go check it out).**

**NOW you can turn off the lights. It's showtime.**

* * *

**Everlasting Bonds: Wings of Despair REMASTERED**

**Chapter 1: Night of Revelations**

* * *

It was raining.

Most of the Ylissean force was erecting tents, while a few men guarded the perimeter. Officers walked around in an ordered fashion, making sure the camp would not become a jumble of wet cloth and rope. It had been a busy day for the Ylisseans, and tomorrow's marching orders had already been announced. They would travel back to Regna Ferox, and would eventually launch a counterattack on the Valmese - and that, the officers supposed, was as deadly business as gambling with an irritated Feroxi warrior.

The earlier attack of the Valmese had come as a surprise, sending winds of unease whirling through the Halidom of Ylisse. Hundreds of innocents had been killed, many villages razed, and all the terrors of war had been made apparent. It was one of those times when the mettle of men was tried and tested, the greatest survivors lifted up high as examples to them all. The current ruler of Ylisse was such a person; he was greeted by the masses as their savior. However, he had never accepted the full title of an Exalt, and the soldiers had understood why. His sister - the late Exalt Emmeryn - had sacrificed herself in an attempt to prevent a full scale war between Plegia and Ylisse, and although two years had already passed, some wounds took time to heal. That was doubly true when speaking of the Ylissean people, and apparently their ruler thought that it was not the right time to don the title of an Exalt.

Or maybe he did not want to.

As the common soldiers went about their business, a man stood outside the camp perimeter, silent in his thoughts. He was repeating the events of the day in his mind. There was something there that he wanted to grasp, but as much as he struggled, there was a wall that he could not cross; the wall of ignorance. He did not have enough information.

Sure, the new ruler of Plegia appeared unbelievably familiar, but what could it mean? Was there another type of Risen - the walking dead that plagued their lands - or did the supposedly dead man have a twin brother?

The silent man scrapped the latter thought immediately; it would have been a far too convenient conclusion for him to make. It was better to assume that the man was alive and a great threat to them all. After all, Validar - whose spitting image the current ruler of Plegia was, not to mention the shared name - had tried to assassinate Exalt Emmeryn two years back. His assassination attempt had been thwarted by a mysterious girl calling herself Marth, who claimed - and the silent man had long since concluded that she spoke the truth - to know how the future would unfold. Their mysterious ally had all but disappeared after that, but some reports claimed that she had been seen travelling the land of Regna Ferox, challenging - and even more surprisingly, defeating - master warriors that used swords as their choice weapon.

_She is walking a curious path for someone so young,_ the man thought, noting to himself that he couldn't have been that much older than her. Maybe it was all the battles that made him feel so experienced. _Anyway... I should probably call it a day, _he thought to himself, and attempted to flare his wet coat as he turned around in the midst of the trees and rain. The coat followed him lazily and set down again without so much as flapping even once. The man grunted in a dissatisfied manner. _This one won't do anymore, _he thought, looking down at his tactician's coat. _I will have to ask them to tailor me a new one. And the faster I get a new coat, the better._

He started walking towards the camp perimeter. There was only so much that a moment of pondering could do for him, after all; he couldn't do much without knowing what the ruler of Plegia was scheming.

_Robin!_

The voice was to the man like an icy grasp to the heart. He felt something course in the skin of his arms, as if something outward were trying to force its own will upon him. The nauseating feeling spread fast and covered his whole body in a manner of seconds.

_Hear me, Robin!_

The man found himself increasingly intimidated. What was happening? What was this feeling?

He mustered his willpower to move his hands to cover his ears in hopes of pushing the voice away; it did not help. The mysterious voice started echoing inside his mind, alongside vibrations that pushed deeper and deeper into his body.

Then he recognized the voice.

"...Vali...dar..." he said arduously, feeling something flow in from his open mouth. It felt like air, but was vile and disturbing, something that he had never tasted before. It was even worse than the foul air that the Risen emanated, but there was something about the two that was the same; the feeling of sickness and the stench of death were both prevalent, making the man feel extremely nauseated.

The air crackled before the man as the dark-skinned ruler of Plegia manifested before him. The ruler of Plegia had a proud and authoritative figure that could have caused much jealousy in a lesser man, and his was also a slender but forceful build. The ruler of Plegia held out his long finger at the man called Robin and exclaimed, "Why do you not heed his call? Why do you resist?"

Robin could feel those words resonate with… something. He did not know what it was, but it felt wrong. Dark.

"Could you truly have no recollection?" Validar mused.

Robin could feel his head splitting apart. The pain… It was too much!

"Get out from my mind!" he shouted in the rain. There was too much anguish, and the pervading feeling of control squirmed there, near the core of his being.

His words did not baffle Validar, who simply laughed. "How amusing," the sorcerer said. "But there is something in your demeanor that I need to address… Did you think that I would allow you to take such a tone with me? With your own _father_?"

"My _what?_" Robin asked weakly. He felt somehow loose, almost as if he were drifting outside of his body and observing words that someone else was saying. He tried to suppress the feeling and had some measure of success: a wave of pain assaulted his head again, but this time he was grateful for it.

It let him grasp onto something real, to his body.

"You are of my flesh, and of a sacred blood," Validar said. "Yours is a destiny far beyond the comprehension of mere mortals!" His gaze rested firmly upon Robin, his eyes beholding a prey that would not - nay, _could_ not - escape. "And you _know_ it to be true," Validar continued. "Search your heart; face the glory of your destiny!"

"No… way…" Robin said, huffing in pain. "Get… out… _now!_"

The rain started passing through the sorcerer's figure. Whatever Robin had done, it seemed to have worked upon the apparition. He pushed on to bellow at the sorcerer: "I… will not... be... _your pawn!"_

Validar's shape started flickering, as if slowly slipping away from existence. "Your ought not to waste your time with these doomed servants of Naga," he said, shaking his head.

Then he was simply gone, no trace of him left.

Robin took hold of a nearby tree, huffing. He was exhausted from exerting his willpower to such extremes.

"Robin?!" a familiar voice shouted. "Are you alright? I heard you shouting!"

"It was nothing!" Robin answered quickly. He heard running steps near the rock formation in the distance, and soon saw Chrom appear from behind the rock formation. The crown prince of Ylisse wore a shoulder pad made of steel, and was clothed in an outfit that made him always ready for battle. His regal figure proved him to be a lord of some sort, although many of his friends simply called him Chrom. He and his friends had no use for fancy titles.

"I'm alright," Robin said to Chrom again, feeling at least slightly better than moments before. His headache caused his head to occasionally reverberate with pain, but there was none of that feeling of control that had held him in its grip.

Chrom squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Well, it has been a long day," he said. "Get some sleep."

Robin nodded, feeling more than happy to oblige. Apparently, Chrom had not heard the content of his shouts; he would have to share them, preferably soon.

_But not today,_ he thought tiredly. There was too much to consider, and he wanted to mentally ready for Chrom's reaction, whatever it would be.

Robin straightened himself and took a quick gander around. As he scanned the surroundings, a sudden shout rang out from the opposite side of the camp. "To arms! The Risen are attacking us! To arms!"

_Not now,_ Robin screamed mentally. Gods, but he felt so tired.

The Risen would not give him any time to gather his wits, though. The Shepherds would have to organize their defenses immediately.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Chrom asked worriedly, his figure compressed as if it were readying itself for the oncoming battle.

"I may not be," Robin admitted, forcing himself to smile, "But I adapt fast."

Chrom nodded and tapped Robin's shoulder. "Go give the men their orders, _Master Tactician_."

Robin grimaced. "I'll never get used to that title," he confessed.

Chrom chuckled. Then he bolted off towards what had essentially become the battle's front line. Robin quickly began running as well, rushing towards the middle of the encampment to take his place as the army's lynchpin; for he was their tactician, the very same that had helped Ylisse to victory in their last war with Plegia. It didn't matter that he still felt like hurling; these people were his only known family, and he would sooner die than let any one of them get killed by the Risen.

And as Robin ran, his coat flared about him, fluttering in the wind and whipping rain.


	2. Encounters: Part 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please keep in mind that while these initial chapters are quicker to revise, the latter chapters are going to require more editing time. These are also heavily revised chapters, not(technically speaking) new content. When I _actually_ start writing new EB chapters, it'll take even more time than editing one of the longer chapters. I'm not saying this to depress you guys, I just want you to understand good things take time(and most of you do understand that). I think the wait will be worth it every time, though.**

**Also, this chapter(and the upcoming ones) will contain content(bits of conversation, narrative and realism) that the original version didn't. The further into the story we are, the more grounded, readable and entertaining I want to make things. I already had some new insights on how things need to be written, especially in the later stages of EB's existence.**

**"Project LB"(the codename for my original story that I started planning/writing when I stopped writing EB years ago) is coming along well. The outline is just about complete(except for a few scenes), and I've already begun writing the first draft. Not much to report on that front, but I'll keep such folks that are interested in it updated on its progress.**

**That's all for today, I think. Please be sure to give your thoughts on the chapter once you're done reading it so that I know what kind of impact the newly revised chapters have!**

**Now then... Please enjoy today's update.**

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**Everlasting Bonds: Wings of Despair REMASTERED**

**Chapter 2: The Madman and the Shepherds**

* * *

Warcries and screams resounded all across a wet camp site. Risen had encircled the encampment and peppered Ylisseans from a safe distance with arrows and the occasional javelin. Muddy ground made the Ylisseans' foothold slippery at best, and the rain made the visibility so bad that Ylissean archers became practically useless at anything else than shooting arrows blindly into the veil of rain. The Risen, however, had an advantage in that they needed no eyes to aim, and thus the exchange of missiles between the two forces was hardly equal, with the Ylisseans ensuing casualties every passing minute.

A few bands of Risen axemen kept assaulting the weak points in the Ylissean battle lines while detachments of Risen swordsmen kept the more able Ylissean combatants occupied. Every group of Risen also seemed to be avoiding the company of heavily armoured Ylissean knights who were being slowed down by the muddy mire.

The Ylisseans were struggling. The mindless Risen were launching coordinated attacks upon their encampment, exhausting the Ylissean soldiers in fights against the brunt of the Risen force while stragglers were picked off with an arrow in the back.

Chrom ran into the middle of the worst skirmish, swinging his Falchion in wide but controlled arcs, forcing the Risen to either back off or fall before his blade. One of the Risen ducked under his sword, but did not quite manage to slash Chrom; the Ylissean brought up his knee, knocking the undead back with a resounding _crack_. Then Chrom swung his sword around, carving into the Risen without any hesitation.

Troops became roused by the valour that Chrom showed on the battlefield, and they started pushing towards a rather large group of Risen.

"Do not engage the enemy!" a voice shouted from behind. "Fall back inside the perimeter!"

Chrom smiled. It was about time that Robin showed up.

He turned to look and saw the tactician standing on a munitions crate that had likely been drug out from a storage tent. The tactician did not look all that special while standing on the crate, but there was an air about him, something that made men listen to him and obey him at his first command. It had not always been thus, of course, but-

The prince snapped his eyes back to the battle. This was no time to be engaged in idle thoughts. Focus was the sole thing that carried men through battles unharmed, or at least made sure that they would not die; thus, he had to concentrate on wiping out the threat that lay before him.

He would leave tactics to Robin.

* * *

After beating back the first wave of Risen, the Shepherds - as the Ylissean force was called - quickly organized themselves in a circle around the perimeter of their camp, as per Robin's orders. They divvied up the company of heavy knights to each point of compass around the encampment. Each heavy knight wore a great helmet and a thick body armor that could have probably stood a blow from a dragon. Not that they were eager to try that out, of course; heavy knights always fancied themselves the most sensible people in any standing army. According to their judgment there were more fools than sane persons among the Shepherds, for only a small portion of the Shepherds wore something that the heavy knights would consider to be "armor".

Robin positioned mages and archers behind the heavy knights - who were only one part of the battle line - so as to launch an onslaught of death towards the soon returning enemy. Cavalry units were delegated to east and west, their purpose being to pick off any stragglers. Any extraneous persons would work as reinforcements in case any Risen managed to burst through the first line of defense. That said, Robin hoped it would not come down to that.

Robin's plan relied entirely on its shock value: if the Shepherds were to fail at cleaning up most of the enemy assault force during the first ten minutes, they would have much trouble disengaging from the enemy with their fatigued troops.

He was frustrated. He had no way of taking out the Risen archers that loomed at range and endangered the Shepherds with their sweeping barrages. And then there were the Risen mages: how Robin wished that he had some pegasus riders who could sweep down on the enemy spellcasters' position. He had but two and both of them were married - utilizing them for such a suicide mission would go against his new work ethics.

Robin sighed. Their battle lines would have to last until all of enemy's close combatants were destroyed.

Unless… No. He would not send Frederick out there alone.

Robin rubbed his wrists, feeling a strange powerlessness. The result of the battle would show whether his decisions had been right.

He somberly drew his sword from its sheath. _If only there was a way to tip the scales in our favor,_ he thought.

* * *

A murder of crows started circling the perimeter; more arrived by the minute even though the downpour threatened to sweep them all away.

The Shepherds had a hard time concentrating on the approaching enemy with all the crows flying about. When the birds dropped a live person into their midst, the little concentration the Shepherds had temporarily evaporated. The fellow that arrived was a fairly handsome youngster with a silver hair and an obnoxious smile. He seemed like a person who'd offer something to you only to rip your heart out, cackling.

Such was the Shepherds' impression of the fellow that crash-landed into their camp during a difficult battle, reeking of feathers and rain.

_"Caw, caw,"_ the man mumbled to himself, dusting off his Grimleal robe of white, purple and black colour. Then he looked around, noticed Chrom and clapped his hands together, speaking once more: "Caw!"

Chrom hunched over slightly, preparing for an incoming attack. However, it never came.

"Cawcaw!" the man shouted into the air. "Cawca- What? Oh… Oh."

Suddenly the drenched, silver-haired man started speaking like a regular person: "The crows told me you can't actually understand Crow-tongue," he said, smiling knowingly. "You see, the crows have a... well, a 'catalogue' of people who can, and I was made privy to that little morsel of information!"

Chrom stared blankly at the man. _What manner of jester is this?_ he thought.

The man gestured all around the camp site with his hand. "You look like you have a little problem, no?"

Directed by the man's hand, Chrom saw Risen appearing from within the veil of rain. They would likely attack soon. "And if it were indeed so?" he asked from the man, having half a mind to boot the man to the Risen to deal with.

The man flashed Chrom a wide grin. "I knew it!" he exclaimed. "The crows told me as much! They know things, the little blabbermouths as they are..." The man quickly glanced at the dark, stormy skies where the crows gathered. "…We really should hold this conversation somewhere without the crows, I tell you."

As the man started waxing on about his crows, Chrom squinted at him.

Instinct suggested to Chrom that the fellow was not unaccustomed to bloodletting, whatever his particular brand of bloodletting actually was. The man's nonchalancy on the battlefield and the Grimleal robes he wore explained much of his unbalanced approach to human interaction, but Chrom's instincts prefered having the man six feet under by the end of the conversation.

The man's arrival wasn't entirely unfortuitous, however, and that - along with a deep understanding of what giving into his instincts meant for the people around him - stayed Chrom's hand.

"Robin!" Chrom shouted to the tactician. "Do we need crows?"

* * *

_Why in Naga's name do we have another sorcerer in our camp?_ Robin wondered.

The man that Chrom had brought to Robin was rubbing hands together and looking around like a kid who had received a new toy from his parents. He looked back to Robin, eyes full of either childish innocence or the disturbing alternative: a distinct lack of remorse.

Robin avoided his gaze by looking up into the air. The murder of crows was unnaturally abundant, suggesting that something - or somebody - had drawn them here. "So..." Robin said, looking back at the silver-haired man who had resumed the observing of his surroundings. "...I was told that you have _unusual_ allies."

"The crows, yes." The man waved his hand at the birds. "They make for almost unbearable travelling companions, but any kind of drivel is better that the clatter of stones on the highways."

"Caw!"

"Look, that's simply how things are!" the man shouted suddenly at the direction of the _cawing_, leaving a confused Robin hanging at the sidelines.

Now, the tactician _assumed_ that the man was talking to the crows, but who knew if that was really the case. Robin certainly did not have another translator available at the moment; besides, he already had an idea, and if he wasn't going to be granted any other tool for the job, he would take the most dangerous one.

"...Could your crows distract the archers and the mages around our camp?" Robin asked.

"Birdbrains!"

"Hey!" Robin shouted, feeling a familiar coldness assert itself in his soul.

The silver-haired man turned around, seemingly confused. "Er, yes," the fellow said with strange humility. "I'll convey the message."

"And your name is…?"

"Mine?" the man asked incredulously. "Man, it's been a while since somebody asked my name. Lemme tell you-"

Robin glared daggers at the man. "Name. Now."

"...Henry. Just Henry."

Robin sighed.

Job interviews weren't what he signed for when he opted for the job as Ylisse's Master Tactician.


End file.
